


Into the Fire

by Akiko_Natsuko



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Explosions, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt: Explosions, Serious Injuries, Whumptober 2019, Worry, post-Return of Kings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-12-01 20:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20888090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: “YATA!” He slipped between two teetering stacks of pallets and froze at the scene ahead of him. Flames flicked across the far wall, the pallets easy fuel for them. And there was Yata, groaning as he tried to pull himself up out of a pile of splintered wood. The vanguard looked worse for wear, his clothing heavily charred, the side of his white top stained crimson, while the pallets had left his arms and legs scratched to hell. But he was alive and moving.'Things had changed for the better between them, and Fushimi wasn't going to lose that even if it meant following the idiot into danger.





	Into the Fire

Fushimi cursed under his breath as he was forced to duck behind a wall for cover, as sickly yellow flames slammed into where he would have been if he hadn’t stopped. It blazed brightly for a moment before fading, and in those few seconds, he realised that he’d lost sight of Yata as the vanguard had charged in, as usual, leaving him in his wake. He could hear sirens in the distance and he knew that Scepter 4 would be responding to his call for help, still not sure how he felt about that certainty even after all this time. However, he couldn’t wait for them, not with Yata rushing headlong into danger and promising himself that he was going to ream the idiot out when he caught up with him he emerged from cover and bolted in the direction that Yata and the Strain had taken.

It wasn’t hard to track them, scorch marks littering the path that they had taken, although he was concerned to realise that more of the marks seemed to have come from the Strain than Yata. They were all losing their powers, but it seemed as though the Strains were holding onto theirs for a little while longer. He knew that it was something that Munakata was worried about because eventually, they might come to a time when they had nothing but their weapons against Strains who still had at least a trace of power. Hell, it had been why he had tried to stop Yata from chasing after this one, but the Strain had attacked one of the shops that had always been friendly with HOMRA, and he had known even as the words had left his mouth that it was futile. Leaving him with no choice but to pursue the pair, because things were finally reaching a new kind of normal between him and Yata and he would be damned if that was ruined because the vanguard was an idiot.

_ I’m going to kill him when I find him… _

Newly rekindled friendship…or whatever the hell it was, wasn’t going to stop him from growling at him though, especially as he rounded the corner of another alleyway to find Yata’s skateboard lying in a mangled, scorched pile by the wall. Or at least that was what he thought it was, as it was ruined almost beyond recognition, and he felt a brief pang at the sight, remembering the afternoon they had spent shopping for it. Shaking his head, he reached for his sword, glad that he had been coming from work, rather than a day off as he drew it. “Fushimi ready.” The spark of power that came with the words was muted, another stark remember that the Blue sanctum was fading away, although he knew that they were lucky to have anything left. Still, it was reassuring as was the weight of the blade in his hands as he moved forward more carefully now, trying not to focus on the twist of worry in the pit of his stomach.

They were heading into the warehouses by the river now, which meant more twisting, turning alleys between the buildings, and he scowled. He’d had enough difficult chases in this area since joining Scepter 4 to instinctively groan at the news of a job here, and that was when he was fully prepared with the rest of his clan backing him up. Right now they were coming, but he was alone and keenly aware of how easy it was to be ambushed here.

“Misaki!” He risked a low call as the scorch marks seemed to peter out, not caring that he had been trying to use the vanguard’s first name less often. He would take Yata’s irritation in return for an answer, but there was only silence apart from the still distant sirens. _Damn it Yata, _there was less heat than he cared to admit in that thought, and for a fleeting second, he thought longingly of the days when he’d been able to hide behind his anger and pretend that he didn’t care about the red clansman. It had almost been easier in a way, but as he pressed on, straining to find some sign of the idiot, he knew that he wouldn’t go back to how they had been.

**

The minutes were ticking by, and he was now only vaguely aware of where he was in the maze of buildings and alleys, the silence pressing in on him. The silence was a bad sign. Yata was loud and obnoxious, especially when he was fighting, so the fact that Fushimi hadn’t heard anything from him in a while was…worrying. Yes, he was going to go with worrying, rather than terrifying, even as he found himself speeding up. “MISAKI! YATA!” Caution gone now, trying not to think what his clansmen would make of it if they found him like this, he broke into a sprint as the feeling of wrongness pressed in on him.

_ Come on Misaki, give me a… hint… _

There.

He had been about to turn the wrong way when he spotted the door that was hanging off its hinges, the lock blasted off. More telling was the tuft of red material that had been caught on the edge of the frame, and more worrying was the smear of blood on the metal door. _Misaki._ He slowed a little now as he inched the door open and slipped inside, taking a second to let his eyes adjust to the half-light of the warehouse, grimacing as he took in the stacks and stacks of pallets. “Misaki?” He called, voice low before his eyes spotted another smear of blood on the closest pallet. Ducking down behind it, he quickly keyed a message into his PDA, updating Scepter 4 about where he was and warning them that there were injuries although he didn’t know how serious they were. _Please, don’t let it be anything serious…_

He was just beginning to work his way through the pallets, torn between relief that there was a trail for him to follow again, and concern that it was blood and most likely a Misaki’s, when there was a loud shout of pain from somewhere up ahead.

Misaki.

Clearly, he had been spending too much time with the vanguard, because throwing caution to the wind he charged out of his cover, no longer trying for stealth as he headed in the direction of the shout. He could hear the fight now and smell it he realised as smoke billowed into his path and he grimaced as there was a burst of heat up ahead that had him flinching back instinctively. Pressing a hand over his mouth he moved forward as Yata shouted again, and there was a crash, as though something or someone had just crashed through a pile of pallets, and considering that the vanguard had gone silent…

“YATA!” He slipped between two teetering stacks of pallets and froze at the scene ahead of him. Flames flicked across the far wall, the pallets easy fuel for them. And there was Yata, groaning as he tried to pull himself up out of a pile of splintered wood. The vanguard looked worse for wear, his clothing heavily charred, the side of his white top stained crimson, while the pallets had left his arms and legs scratched to hell. But he was alive and moving, albeit looking a little dazed as he did so, and Fushimi took a chance to scan the area, sword at the ready and his other hand sliding towards his knife, but he couldn’t see the Strain right then, although the smoke was making it hard to see beyond the immediate line of pallets.

Hearing Yata staggering to his feet, Fushimi moved towards him, still scanning his surroundings at least until he reached the vanguard. “Idiot,” he grumbled, clicking his tongue, even as he abandoned his knives in favour of reaching out to support the vanguard as he wavered. “What the hell were you thinking?” He added, unable to feign disinterest as Yata leaned into him rather than trying to support himself, and now he could feel the dampness soaking through his side. “Misaki…”

“Sorry…” The apology more than anything worried him because Yata wasn’t one to apologise unless he absolutely had to, and his grip tightened.

“We’ll talk about it later, let’s just get out of here before he returns.” Fushimi tried not to think about the parallels with the last time they’d promised to talk later, even as he found himself supporting most of Yata’s weight as he guided them away from the flames and in what he vaguely hoped was the main doors. Apparently, Yata had caught the similarity though because he huffed a shaky laugh before finally trying to take more of his own weight, but Fushimi clung on stubbornly, and the streak of independence was short-lived as Yata winced as he caught his side.

“Kusanagi is going to kill me.”

“I am going to kill you, he can have whatever’s left, ” Fushimi retorted, trying not to let the corner of his mouth twitch when Yata snorted and pouted at him, which became a lot easier when Yata stumbled and hissed in pain. _You scared me,_ he thought, half-smile turning to a frown as he shifted his attention to getting them out of there.

He had just spied the doors up ahead, trying to speed them up when Yata froze and stiffened beside him, halting his forward momentum. “Misaki…?” He realised that the vanguard was looking up, lips curled into a snarl, and already knowing what he was going to find he lifted his head, fingers tightening on the hilt of his sword as he found the Strain staring down at them from one of the platforms that ran across the top of the warehouse. Waiting for them, he realised uncomfortably, trying to shift his hold on Yata so that he would be able to fight, but not daring to let go, not entirely sure he could stand on his own.

“You’re not getting out of this,” he told the Strain, realising that he could hear the sirens again now, much closer. The cavalry was nearly there, all they needed to do was hold out long enough for them to arrive, which was easier said than done with Yata injured, but it was doable.

“Neither are you.” It was the first time the Strain had spoken to them beyond shouted curses and threats, and Fushimi faltered for a second at how young they sounded. That was his mistake as yellow flame erupted into life around the Strain’s hands, too bright in the semi-darkness, screwing with Fushimi’s sight, and then the fire was rushing towards them.

No, not towards them.

The Strain hadn’t been aiming for them, but something off to their right and Fushimi whirled to see what it was, eyes widening with horror as he spotted the fuel canisters stacked in the corner. Yata had realised the danger a split second earlier, coming to life in his arms and the Blue found himself being flung around and away from them, shouting a curse just as the world exploded around them and something… or rather someone slammed into him just as the flames reached them, and then he was flying, and falling and the world went dark with Yata’s voice ringing in his ears.


End file.
